


Welcome to Wall Rose

by Damalia (Achrya)



Series: Welcome to Wall Rose [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Welcome to Night Vale Setting, Horror, Humor, Language, M/M, Marco is a tentacle monster, Reincarnation, Typical Night Vale Weirdness, i guess?, it's a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-21 10:57:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6049038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Damalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wall Rose is a friendly desert town, somewhere in the great southwest, where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while everyone pretends to sleep. Jean is new to town, filling an empty spot in the police force, and it is quickly apparent that Wall Rose is a very strange place. </p><p> </p><p>  <em>“Have you ever had a dream so real that you woke up sure that the dream was real and the real was the dream?” A male voice, lightly accented and strangely wistful, drifted from his speakers.  “Wall Rose is an ancient place. Full of history and secrets, full of dreams. But it is also a place of the present moment, full of life, and of us. If you can hear my voice, speaking live, then you know. We are not history yet, even if we are. We are happening now. How miraculous is that?” </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Wall Rose

**Author's Note:**

> There are some references to canon things, which I guess means there's a kind of reincarnation or alternate universe theory going on? IDK. It's vague. Making it up as I go. You'll see. Anyway. Onward!

‘You’ll like Wall Rose’ is what they told Jean. ‘It’s a quiet sleepy town and you never hear about trouble happening there. You’re lucky to get this promotion.’ 

What they didn’t tell Jean is that no one ever heard anything about Wall Rose one way or the other. Or that people had a tendency to go and never come back. Or that they never expected to hear from him again much like the woman who’d been sent before him. 

No they didn’t see fit to tell Jean any of that at all. 

Jean was kind of a douchebag, though basically a good cop, and sending him to some place people never came back from would probably improve station morale considerably. If he’d been nicer and did things like participate in the relay race against the fire department they probably would have sent that weird guy Leslie instead. 

But Leslie at least brought brownies to events. 

Jean never brought brownies. 

And that was why he was being sent to Wall Rose. 

Let this be a lesson about the importance of baked goods at work events. 

\---

Wall Rose sort of appeared out of nowhere all at once. One minute Jean was driving alone the same dusty stretch of road he’d been driving on for just long enough that he was starting to get nervous about having driven out of the state because it was just impossible that there was still further to go and the next he was blinking at buildings made twisted and hazy by the heat on the horizon. .

He cruised past a white sign that proclaimed ‘Welcome to Wall Rose’ in ugly mustard yellow block letters and sighed in relief. His AC had decided it no longer wanted anything to with the trip hours ago and he was desperate to get inside and out of the blistering heat. The sun was setting and the moon was already up, a sliver of a thing high in the sky, but it meant nothing as far as how hot it was went.  

He was pretty sure he’d lost five pounds of water weight and was going to be leaving a few non-essential layers of skin behind when he finally got out of the car.

His radio crackled and the music coming from it switched over to something more fitting for an elevator than his car. He frowned and looked down, eyebrow going up when he saw the bright blue letters had switched from external input to 104.7 FM. 

The music stopped. 

“Have you ever had a dream so real that you woke up sure that the dream was real and the real was the dream?” A male voice, lightly accented and strangely wistful, drifted from his speakers.  “Wall Rose is an ancient place. Full of history and secrets, full of dreams. But it is also a place of the present moment, full of life, and of us. If you can hear my voice, speaking live, then you know. We are not history yet, even if we are. We are happening now. How miraculous is that?” 

A chill ran up Jean’s spine in spite of the dry oppressive heat of the day. He fumbled and then hit the button to turn off the radio, a sort of panic prickling usually resolved for walking into an unknown but potentially dangerous situation settling in the back of his mind. For a second there was silence 

“Welcome to Wall Rose.” The voice breathed softly, sounding somehow like it meant only for his ears. Jean swore he could feel warm wet breath ghosting over the back of his neck but when he smacked a hand back there was, of course, nothing to be found.  

He shuddered then looked down; the radio display was dark and blank. He tapped the button once, to see the numbers flare back to life, and again to see them snuffed out. 

“And now a reminder for all the parents out there planning taking their children out to play tomorrow.” The voice switched to something lighter and more ‘friendly’. “Let’s talk about safety while out in the desert wastes and the aboveground. Be sure to give your child plenty of water. Make sure there’s shade in the area. Keep an eye on those signal flare colors.”

A sound like paper rustling. “Are the flares in the sky black? Something abnormal is afoot and that is not a good area for play that day. Are they blue? That’s the sheriff’s secret police; don’t worry they’re here for our protection and hardly ever make any disappear these days. Is there no color at all, just a high pitched whine that may or may not make your ears bleed? Well no one knows what that one means or who is setting it off but the Council has very clear instructions for that situation.”

The music behind the voice took on unsteady frantic rhythm and the man started speaking faster, urgently. “Do no play in the area. Return home and lock your doors until the sheriff’s secret police offices place a carnation on your door step to indicate the danger has passed. Cover your ears to blot out the screams and ignore any strange large shadows passing by your windows.”

Jean stopped his car and stared wide eyed at the radio. There was a pause and then, calmer: 

“And remember Gatorade is basically soda. Give your kids plain water and maybe some orange slices as they play. In more recent news there’s a newcomer to down. He calls himself a deputy, a member of law enforcement but aren’t we all enforcers of the law in some ways?” 

“What the fuck?” Jean muttered. 

“The real question is: what does he intend to do with those handcuffs and how good is he with them really? I certainly hope he has more than just the one set.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo. Full disclosure, Marco? Probably a shape shifting tentacle monster of sorts? Just wanna...get that out there before it becomes a 'thing'. Which it will. Such a thing. A huge thing. A very deep and probing issue. 
> 
> ...I'm sorry, that's awful. I'm awful. It's not really strictly my fault though. [C0Cunt](http://archiveofourown.org/users/c0cunt/pseuds/c0cunt) is sort of to blame for tentacle Marco. True story.


	2. Fucking Mitras Sina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Some witness suggest this is the work of the Mitras Sina Ponies.” The host said as if on cue. Connie nodded, looking smug. “Mitras Sina is always trying to show us up with fancier uniforms, tastier before game snacks, and, it seems, by transporting a jet into our gymnasium, delaying practice by minutes, at least.”

Music played and faded into white noise as Jean navigated his way into the main part of town and, casting glances at the map he’d been given before setting out that morning, made his way to the police station. It was dark by the time he pulled into one of the spots in front of the station and, it seemed, the town was pretty quiet at night. He gone past a few people, mostly teenagers in groups or pairs, a few wearing ‘Wall Rose Wingers’ t-shirts and basketball jerseys.

The radio host with the alarmingly appealing voice who seemed to be aware of his presence in town had stopped talking after an odd announcement about a dog park that didn’t allow dogs or people to visit but did have an electrified fence and Wall Cult members in hoods that weren’t to be stared at under any circumstances.

The dog park itself was also not meant to be stared at but, that low crooning voice had assured everyone, the dog park wasn’t going to cause any harm. After all it was city council approved. 

He’d decided, after giving the matter some thought, that it was some kind of comedic prank show sort of deal. Someone from the police department had told the guy there was a new deputy coming to town and somehow or another he’d known Jean was close enough to pick up the station. Some sort of…small town hazing thing.

“Breaking news.” The music cut off abruptly and the man returned as if summoned by Jean’s thoughts. Hanji and her assistant, Armin, report that the sun did not set at the correct time today. They’re rather convinced of this and, in fact, they’ve checked multiple clocks and the sun definitely set ten minutes earlier than it was supposed to.”

Jean turned off his car then reached back to grab the folder he’d tossed into the back seat. His back was sticking to the fake leather of his seat, of course, and he couldn’t stop himself from wrinkling his nose at the feeling. Maybe he should have gone straight to his apartment? Sheriff Smith has said he could come in and do his paperwork with Undersheriff Ackerman if he wanted or was free to wait until the next day. He’d wanted to get it done and then crash but now

The man’s voice continued to come from the speakers, undaunted by the fact the car was off and the keys pulled from the ignition. Jean had to give him points for persistence. “I asked them if they had any explanations but they did not offer anything worth mentioning. Mostly they sat in a circle around a desk clock, staring at it, murmuring, and cooing like it was a particularly ugly baby whose parents they didn’t want to offend.”

Alright then.

He was going to check in and get his paperwork done, late hour or not, and then he was going to figure out how they were getting sound out of his car when everything was off. Another radio somewhere? Maybe the prank went all the way back to the posting he’d just left?

Most of the people he’d worked with hadn’t really been the joking sorts, not with him anyway, but Hitch and Marlowe maybe? They’d come from the academy together and they got along well enough.

Hitch did enjoy messing with people.

“The newcomer has finally arrived at his destination.” The radio host sighed in a way that made Jean think of teenagers with crushes and someone who’d just eaten their fill of their favorite meal all at once. “He has a nice face, perhaps a bit on the long side, and his hair is perhaps a little long for a deputy but it compliments him nicely. His eyes and the set of his mouth, that half smirk he wears even when he’s confused or upset, gives him a mean look as if violence and doing harm come to him naturally. I think I’d that’s something I’d like to witness.”

He looked around but didn’t see anyone nearby; the police station was brightly lit but there wasn’t anyone looking out at him. But not seeing someone didn’t mean anything.

“I think, dear listeners,” He whispered, voice once again that soft intimate almost purr and yet there was something strange and horrible to it as well. “That I might be in love.”

Jean squeaked then put a hand over his mouth, grateful that no one could see him.

He needed to get it together.

It was fine. Just a prank. He would forever regret telling Hitch his preference skewed towards men; first she’d tried setting him up with her meth addict brother (and what kind of self-respecting cop introduced their coworkers to their criminal family members anyway?) then she’d tried pushing him at Marlowe (poor straight and in love with Hitch Marlowe) and now this.

He grabbed the folder then slipped out of his car. The air was still, not even a friendly breeze coming along to dry some of the sweat on his brow.

“We know why he is here but why is *he* *here*? Why his perfect and beautiful haircut and why his perfect and beautiful amber eyes?” The man continued in that same dark and almost hypnotic voice. “Why that Tri-force tattoo on his back? Why did he decide to pierce his-”

Jean slammed his door hard enough to drown out what was about to be said next. He all but ran towards the building, mind buzzing. How could someone know about those things? Hitch sure as hell didn’t know and he hadn’t gotten laid since…long enough that there was no way anyone he’d slept with was involved with this.

What was-

“You Kirschstein?”

He blinked, realizing with a start that he’d stormed his way all the way inside. the building was cold on the inside and the sweat started to cool on his flushed skin almost immediately. It felt amazing.

The front of the station was an open area with two rows of rickety looking desks topped with computers that may have been older than Jean himself was. The first row was just actually a singular desk behind which a man with tan skin and a shaved head was sitting behind. There was a woman in a tan uniform sitting on the corner of the desk, dark reddish brown hair pulled back into a ponytail.

The second row had 3 desks, 3 of which has picture frames and small knicknacks on them and one that was pristine and gleaming. Behind those desks were two doors, each leading to an office. One had Smith in neat even black lettering and the other Ackerman.

It was the woman, Blouse if the name stitched onto her uniform was right, who’d spoke to him.

“Ah. Yeah. Hi.”

She held out her hand, smiling broadly and he quickly closed to gap to shake it. Firm grip, rough hands, and sharp considering eyes. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sasha Blouse, one of the other deputies, and this is Connie Springer, our secretary.”

“And dispatcher, barista, delivery service, the only person who can work the fax machine.” Connie listed, eyes bright as he ducked a playful swipe from Sasha. “Hmm, what else do I-”

“Our newcomer is inside the police station.” There was a small radio on the receptionist’s desks. Jean didn’t need to look at it to know it was tuned to 104.7. He tensed up, jaw clenching painfully in dread of what might be said next.

“His arms aren’t bad. I think he works outs.” The man continued without pause. “The man’s name is Jean.”

Sasha’s eyebrows went up. She looked like she was going to say something but the office door labeled Ackerman swung open to reveal a scowling man with deepset eyes who seemed to absolutely ooze menace.

He probably oozed it because his body was too small to keep it all contained.

Jean didn’t say that out loud.

It was a very wise decision on his part.

Hooded eyes fixed on Jean for a moment then flickered over to Sasha who’d jumped from her spot on Connie’s desk to stand at attention.

“New guy? Springer, get his paperwork from Erwin’s desk.” The man who must have been Ackerman, or else had a lot of explaining to do since he’d been in Ackerman’s office and was wearing clothes that identified him as such. “Blouse, we’re headed to the high school. There was-”

“A commercial airplane flying through local airspace disappeared today,” The radio host interrupted smoothly. Ackerman’s mouth pressed into an even deeper scowl. He jerked his head at Sasha who nodded jerkily then, with a wave at Jean, headed for the door. Ackerman gave Jean one last head to toe look, complete with a grimace of disgust, then turned on his heel to leave. “Only to reappear in the Wall Rose high school gym during basketball practice.”

Jean pinched the bridge of his nose as if that would stave off the headache he could feel forming. Connie leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk as he gave the radio his full attention.  

“It completely disrupted practice. The jet roared through the small gym for only a fraction of a second. Before it could harm any players or cause any damage it vanished again, perhaps for good. There is no word yet on how, or if, this incident will disrupt the Wall Rose Wingers’ play schedule.”

Connie sniffed. “I bet it was those Ponies out of Mitras Sina. Sabotage. Trying to rattle the team before the game.”

Jean gaped in disbelief. “You can’t be serious about this?”

A ‘welcome to town’ prank he could kind of get behind, maybe, but it was going a little far. First the host himself was…intense, and leaving to go looking into a plane appearing then disappearing in a school gym, and the stuff the host knew about him it…

He didn’t know what the fuck it was.

“Yeah man. Mitras Sina’s our rival in everything.” Connie looked deathly serious. “This is just the sort of thing they would do to get an edge.”

“Some witness suggest this is the work of the Mitras Sina Ponies.” The host said as if on cue. Connie nodded, looking smug. “Mitras Sina is always trying to show us up with fancier uniforms, tastier before game snacks, and, it seems, by transporting a jet into our gymnasium, delaying practice by minutes, at least.”

“Fucking Mitras Sina.” Connie muttered then looked up at Jean as if finally remembering he was there. “Oh right. Let me get those forms for you. Tax stuff, next of kin, blah blah. You know.”

“Yeah,” Jean said faintly. “Okay.”

“And now for the weather.”  


	3. Ghosts?

Jean settled into his apartment pretty fast but then having next to nothing of his own helped with that considerably. It was a fully furnished one bedroom with a nice little balcony and behind building parking and was set up for fiber optic internet so he had zero complaints on that front. It was in Old Town Wall Rose, about fifteen minutes from the station in the car.

Old Town was a section of town full of charming’ older buildings, narrow roads, sidewalks made of raised wooden planks instead of cement, and businesses with bike racks and ‘Shoppe’ on their signs, seemingly all staffed by teenagers with brightly colored hair, arms covered in ink, and faces full of metal.

Not that Jean was one to criticize anyone’s piercing and tattoo choices.  

Jean was many things but a hypocrite wasn’t one of them. Not usually anyway.

Sometimes it depended on how the day was going, the positioning of the sun, and approximate wind speed.

Connie had informed him, after giving him directions, that he should be on the lookout for horse drawn ghost carts at night and that, in accordance with city laws, ghost vehicles always had the right away.

He’d been too tired to even question it at that point and half afraid of the answer he would get. He liked Connie already and would have hated to think he was completely insane. Things like that could put a real damper on a new friendship.

The radio, blessedly, had only played music during his ride over.

The place was nicer than the hole in the wall he’d been living in before and the fact it had everything he needed in it almost made it seem like an adult lived there instead of a guy who’d driven across state with a few boxes of clothes, a box of books he swore he was going to read eventually, a coffee maker, a desktop and laptop, and a video game console.

It was, however, across from the dog park that didn’t allow dogs or humans and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

At least he thought it was across from the dog park. He hadn’t noticed it when he was outside but once he was inside and out on his little balcony, admiring the little cafe table and chairs the apartment had come with (much nicer than the absolutely nothing he would have put out there if left to his own devices) when he noticed it. How he’d missed it when he’d been bringing up his boxes he wasn’t sure but from his balcony he could the park very clearly. There was a high wrought iron fence dotted with signs that clearly stated trespasser would be viciously electrocuted. Lots of trees, some dog runs, low lying water fountains, benches, long undulating shadows, the pounding sound of drums in his ears, and a feeling behind his eyes like someone was scratching at the inside of his skull that got worse the longer he stared.

He stepped back inside, shut the balcony doors, flipped the locks into place, and headed deeper into his apartment.

Sleep was what he needed. He was tired, basically dead on his feet, and that was making it easier for the town to get to him. Once he’d rested he’d be able to look at everything with fresh eyes, figure out what was going on (he was still sort of leaning towards very elaborate prank) and get to work for real.

A wipe down of the shower (it looked clean but he didn’t want to take chances), a quick shower to get the worst of the sweat and desert dust off of him, amazing chocolate chip cookies that had been left wrapped up on his kitchen island, and a warm powerade later found him in the bedroom, towel hanging around his neck. The bed and the pillows were stripped down, no linens in sight, and he wasn’t sure if he cared enough to do anything about it.

He had a quilt in one of the boxes he’d left stacked up in the living room but no sheets to speak of. He was going to have to

A creak and a thump had him turning to the side. Two bundles of sheets, both still in their packaging, were on the floor in front of an open door he’d assumed was an empty closet but seemed to actually be holding linens.

He stared for a moment then rubbed at his eyes and shuffled over. Had he taken these out earlier and hadn’t realized it? Or maybe they’d just fallen all on their own at the exact moment he was thinking about needing this kind of stuff. Stranger things had happened, right?

Right.

He didn’t exactly make the bed. He threw a sheet on the mattress, collapsed on top, and dragged the other sheet up over him. He turned onto his side, more than ready to just close his eyes and be done, when his gaze fell onto the clock-radio sitting on the bedside dresser. The time was flashing at him in large red numbers but the radio itself was off.

Good. He didn’t want to hear anymore news or shitty elevator music anyway.

Though. It had been hours. That guy was probably long done for the night and maybe there would be better music. Or another station. There had to be other stations.

He had always slept better with a little background noise.

He reached out and groped along the side until he found the on switch.

“Hanji and their team of scientists, which is really just Moblit and Armin, warn that one of the houses in the new development of Stohess Creek, out back of the elementary school, doesn’t actually exist.”

Jean sighed and started fumbling for the wheel that would let him find a different station. Was this guy just on all night? He found one ridged wheel but when he moved it the man got louder.

“It seems like it exists, explained Hanji and her glasses, like it’s just right there when you look at it. And it’s between two other identical houses, so it would make more sense for it to be there than not.” The man affected a slightly higher pitched, but not necessarily feminine, voice as he quoted the scientist.

He frowned then crawled closer to the dresser, sheet slipping down to pool over his legs and carefully picked up the radio to squint at it in the darkness. He didn’t feel anything aside from the volume wheel and the one switch but there had to be a way to change the station, didn’t there?

“But, they say, they have done experiments and the house is definitely not there. At the time of this announcement, the scientists are standing in a group on the sidewalk in front of the nonexistent house, daring each other to go knock on the door. Further updates should be available tomorrow.”

Jean shook the clock in annoyance.

“Settling in to be another clear night and pretty evening here in Wall Rose. I hope all of you out there have someone to sleep through it with.  Or, at least, good memories of when you did.” There was a note of longing to the host’s voice, so sad and lonely that Jean stopped shaking the radio to stare at it again.

“Don’t forget to thank the ghost of the sixty-two year old woman in your apartment for those cookies.” Music, mournful and full of strings, began to play. “Good night, dear listeners, goodnight.”

There was a click and the nothing but music. Jean waited, half expecting the host to come back with more of his weird shit, but there was nothing. He frowned then shifted back to the middle of the bed.

Sleep was just starting to carry him away when the parting advice of the host hit him.

He sat up. Looked around the dark room. It was, he knew, insane. Ghosts weren’t real. It was probably the woman who owned the building (Very nice, around his mother’s age, and very much alive as of that morning when she’d told him she’d put the key under the welcome mat) who’d left him the cookies.

There was no one, dead or otherwise, in his apartment.

Probably.

Right?

He slipped out of the bed, sheet wrapped tightly around him, to dig a pair of boxers and a t-shirt out of one of his boxes. Getting them on without displacing the sheet was hard but he felt a little bit better once he was done.

\---

The next day he woke up to coffee already made and toast, already buttered, sitting next to it. He poured the coffee, took the plate of toast gingerly, looked around the seemingly empty kitchen, and whispered a thank you.

He felt a warm prickle on the back of his neck and promptly turned around to retreat back into the bedroom.

He dressed quickly and, after indulging a strange urge to properly make his bed, ventured out in an attempt to get some more food in the apartment. Ghost toast and cookies aside there wasn’t much there.

He’d seen a flier for the Wall Rose Farmer’s Market but when he’d walked over to the City Hall parking lot he’d found nothing but vacant stalls, empty pickup trucks, and some shifty looking guys in suits overseeing it all.

He’d opted to just keep walking until he’d ended up outside of Springer Grocery, a moderately sized store staffed entirely by people who bore more than a passing resemblance to Connie. It was early enough that it wasn’t quite deathly hot yet and the walk home was without any strange incidents.

He was filling up the refrigerator when he cell phone rang. He fished it out, noted the unfamiliar number, then drug his thumb over the screen to answer.

“Hello?”

“Kirschstein? It’s Connie? We met last night at the station? I was the-”

“I remember.” Jean said, smiling faintly. He tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder then went back to dumping vegetables into the bottom drawers of the fridge. “Was there a problem with my paperwork?”

“With your-oh. Nono. It’s. Well. You’re sort of needed? We know you were supposed to have a day to settle in but it’s kind of a big deal and Sasha is on her way over to get your.”

Jean blinked then nodded before realizing Connie couldn’t see it. “It’s fine man.”

And it was. He was here to work after all and he took his job seriously. If something was going down that needed him then he was prepared-wait.

“I don’t have a uniform yet.”  

“Someone’s reported a murder.”

\---

“What is that?” Jean asked, peering up at the…thing.

“Well it’s…” Sasha trailed off. Her head was tipped back and one of her hands was up to shield her eyes from the sun as she squinted. “No fucking clue.”

It was big and sort of hovering in the air like a cloud, rolling along slowly. It was pink or maybe orange or perhaps yellow (he blinked then it was pink again) and he thought maybe he was starting to hear a low whistling in his ears.

“The desert seems vast, even endless, and full of mysteries we dare not imagine.” The same man as the night before intoned. A moment before uptempo pop had been pumping out into the dry air from Sasha’s pickup. Jean missed it as soon as it was gone. 

They’d stopped on the middle of the dusty road, on their way out to a farm to answer a call claiming that one of the farm hands had been killed but when they’d spotted the cloud…thing they’d pulled over so Sasha could call it in. 

And so they could stare at it. 

“Welcome to Wall Rose. We’re starting early today to ask if any of our listeners have seen the glowing cloud moving in from the west? Keith Shadis, you know the former sheriff who is now a farmer-slash-school teacher-paranoid malcontent, reported seeing it over the western ridge coming from Mitras Sina this morning. Since then it has drifted over one of those other farms out there in the middle of the desert and seems to be headed for town.

“At present one death has already been attributed to the Glow Cloud but listen, it’s probably nothing. If we had to shut down the town for every mysterious event that at least one death could be attributed to, we’d never have time to do anything, right?”

Jean rubbed at his temples.


	4. Raining Armadillos and Lizards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean's first day on the job is...rough

Jean felt like his head was on the verge of exploding. He and Sasha had called in their findings, taken pictures and sent them off to the station, then been called back to town to wait until Sheriff Smith decided what to do about the glowing cloud. An ear splitting ringing was echoing in his skull, setting his teeth on edge and making it almost impossible to think.

Sasha heard the noise too but it didn’t seem to be bothering her as much as it was him. In fact she’d called it ‘sort of pleasant, like having your teeth cleaned or something’ and there was so much going on in that statement that he hadn’t wanted to deal with it.  

The radio droned, more strange stories interspersed with awful music, but focusing on it and the host’s voice, quietly amused and deep, helped him drown out the worst of the ringing. It still hurt but he’d managed to actually pull himself out of the truck to follow Sasha into up a flight of stairs to what looked like a lab. Inside there was group of three, a woman and two men all wearing pristine white labcoats, whispering to each other and waving beakers around.

Sasha went over to speak to them and Jean closed his eyes, grateful that the radio was playing in here as well. He let his awareness focus down to it and, again, the worst of the ringing in his ears was overtaken.

“Last night a great howling sound, a bit like a human soul being pulled from a body, dragged into the dark endless abyss and then torn asunder, was heard coming from the post office. Postal Workers claim to have no knowledge of this but it’s not as if we can trust Postal Workers. They claim to work even in the snow but the one time it snowed in Wall Rose my mail was not delivered. Freak blizzard they said, snow up to their eyeballs they said, yetis walking around snatching people out of their cars and tearing them limb from limb they said, but the simple truth is this: They lied.”

Jean snorted tiredly.

“Back to the noise. The ‘Apache Tracker,” There derision was so thick in the host’s voice Jean could practically taste in. “Now, I don’t know if you’ve seen this guy around. He’s the one that appears to be of maybe Slavic origin, yet wears an Indian headdress out of some racist cartoon and claims to be able to read tracks on asphalt? Yeah, that guy. He claims to have found some disturbing things inside of the now closed post office.

“He says he used ancient Native American runes and magic to slip in past the security set up by the city council and found, amongst packages and letters that looked to be thrown about by some sort of whirlwind and a stench like burnt flesh, a message written in blood.”

That made Jean crack open an eye in interest then reach for the small notebook and pen in his back pocket. _Post Office. Apache Tracker?  Weird Noise?? Message in Bloodwhat the fuck is wrong with this town?_

“More to come, and soon.” The host said, voice dropping to a raspy whisper. Then, after a pause filled by music that sounded more like someone banging on a piano than anything else. “Can you believe he said he used Native American magic? What an asshole.”

“Hey.” Sasha’s voice was followed by the sound of something clinking loudly around against plastic.

He looked up from his notes to see he holding a small white bottle in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He accepted them and, after dry swallowing two pills he shook out and grimacing at the chalky flavor, nodded towards the excitedly chattering trio.

“Oh right. That’s Hanji and her assistants, Moblit and Armin. She came to town about six months ago-”

“Yes!” Hanji was at Sasha’s side suddenly, peering at Jean through thick square lenses. “You know Wall Rose is the most scientifically fascinating and impossible place in the country?”

Jean had absolutely no problem believing that at all and that was after less than twenty-four hours. He nodded.

“I came to study the strange phenomena, at my mentors insistence. I was only meant to stay three months and report back but I…seem to have forgotten how to leave. Do you know…have you…” She frowned, looking confused as her brow furrowed. Then, blinking and shaking her head, she smiled sharply. “You saw the Glow Cloud?

Jean was, suddenly, very certain that he’d made a very serious mistake in accepting a position in Wall Rose. Or…no. This was a good position, great even. The pay was good, the risk was low, and he was not letting a few strange people and a glowing cloud throw him off his game.

There were strange people all over the world and, as a cop, encountering them was something that was going to happen frequently. And the cloud…well, maybe it was pollution or dust from the nearby canyons and rocks catching the light or something. And the toast this morning…

Okay, admittedly that, and the cookies, had been pretty weird but he was sure if he thought about it hard enough he would come up with something. There was still the possibility that the woman he was renting from had done it, though he understood she lived on an alpaca ranch towards the south and only came in to collect rent and get her hair cut once a month but…maybe she really liked cops? And making toast?

…maybe he sleep cooked? Was that a thing? Hell, even if it wasn’t it was still more likely than a ghost making him breakfast, wasn’t it? Just about anything was more likely than that.

“This is probably nothing listeners, but Keith Shadis – you know the former sheriff who is now a farmer-slash-school teacher-paranoid malcontent – reports that the Glow Cloud is directly over Old Town Wall Rose,”

Sasha pursed her lips. Jean sighed. Of course.

“And appears to be raining small creatures upon the earth. Armadillos, lizards, a few crows, that kind of thing.”

Hanji squealed then, grabbing the small radio, hurried out of the door. “The roof! Armin bring the thermal imaging camera! Moblit bring the video camera and the wind speed and air pressure gauge.”

Sasha grabbed his arm and tugged him along after the gleeful looking women back into the stairwell they’d come up earlier only this time they went up another flight and out into the blinding bright sunlight.

“No cats or dogs or other cute and thus worthwhile animals seem to be part of this event so I don’t expect PETA to be paying us a visit.” The host continued blithely but Jean was barely listening.

Staring out across the rooftops he could see the Glow Cloud slowly making its way towards them and, just like standing on the edge of an impending storm and being able to see the downpour coming while still being dry, he could see small dark forms tumbling from out of the cloud and hurtling towards the ground.  

It was interesting to note that, in spite of its hazy aqua color- wait no it was pink. …red?- that it was mostly transparent and yet Jean couldn’t see where the animals could possibly be falling from.

Though, in the grand scheme of things, the where wasn’t all that important because, apparently, animals were raining from the fucking sky.

And he hadn’t ever gotten around to putting his car in the garage.

“Fortunately, the animals appear to be dead already and the Wall Rose Animal Control Department has said that it should be a snap to clean those up. They just have to be tossed on the eternal animal pyre in Landfill Park. I, for one, hope all of this will be over before the softball game against the Mitra Sina Ladybugs this evening, lest we have to listen to softball mom’s complaining about their children’s delicate minds and fielding lawsuits because of nightmares and psychological scars caused by watching animals rain from the sky. The children in Mitras Sina just aren’t built for the real world like the ones in Wall Rose.”

The pounding in Jean’s head was getting worse the longer he stared but he couldn’t make himself look away. The cloud was getting closer, eating up the distance, and the dark blobs started to take on shape and look more like actual animals. There was pressure, painful pressure, right behind his eyes.

“So, if that’s the worst the Glow Cloud has for us, I say go ahead and do your daily errands.” There was a fleshy smacking noise, like someone’s hand hitting a table or something along those lines. Jean jumped in surprise.  “We in Wall Rose won’t be bullied by some strange unknown cloud that thinks a few animals splattering on the pavement and some broken windshields are enough to send us running in fear. We’re better than that here. Just bring along a good strong umbrella capable of handling falling animals up to, say, ten pounds.”

“We should head over to Old Town.” Jean said tearing his gaze away from the scene. The ringing lessened immediately. “Try to keep things calm?”

“And hey, here’s a tip, take your kids out and use the Cloud’s constantly mutating hue to teach him or her the names of colors. It’s fun, and it shows them the real-life applications of learning.” Jean sincerely hoped that no one was actually going to be doing that. “That said I do not endorse Wall Rose’s Secret Police’s suggestion to run directly at the cloud, shrieking and waving your arms, just to see what it does.”

Jean cut his eyes over to Sasha who shook her head. “That is not what we’re telling people to do.”

—-

Erwin Smith was an impressive looking man: tall, broad shouldered, blond hair perfectly coiffed, uniform free of wrinkles with sharp seams, and eyebrows that seemed to radiate with menace and authority.

And yet, as Jean watched him stand before the glow cloud with his hands on his hips, demanding that the Glow Cloud tell them what it was doing in Wall Rose immediately, it was a little hard to take him seriously.

On the upside it had stopped raining small animals about 25 minutes ago. On the downside he was going to be dreaming about falling and splattering on the pavement for a while.

He swallowed another pair of pain pills, bringing his total to roughly ‘might need a liver transplant’ and rubbed at his temples. “Can someone turn on the radio?”

“The Glow Cloud answers not to humans.” Connie, who apparently was their crime scene guy and something of a wiz with foreign languages, which may or may not have included Cloud, on top of being a receptionist, said softly. Jean turned to look down at him, frowning at the glassy eyed look. “It is beyond our ability to understand.”

“Hey, Sasha?” Jean said, edging away Connie. “I think maybe we should get Connie inside.” All that sun directly onto a shaved head couldn’t be good for his brain could it?

Sasha, who was leaning against her truck and slurping away at a milkshake, tilted her head towards him. “He’s just become one with the Glow Cloud. All Hail the Glow Cloud. Why have you not joined the Glow Cloud?”

“Oh. Okay then.” He turned on his heel and, without a look back, strode towards the ice cream shop (shoppe) they’d met in front of to confront the cloud.

There was a booming noise, something between a belch and a hiccup, and then a crash. Jean jumped back as dust and roof tile clattered down from above then looked up.

A lion, an honest to god straight from the…where lions came from because honestly animals weren’t Jean’s thing but he sure as fuck knew that lions weighed more than ten pounds, had crashed onto the top of Diamant Ice Cream and Fried Candy Bar Shoppe.  

He looked down when a bell tinkled to see the door of the shop open and a young woman with bright red hair and unfocused green eyes step out. She looked at him, or maybe through him.

“The Glow Cloud-”

“Yep.”

Nope.

He stepped around her and into the shop. He pulled the door shut behind him and flipped the lock into place. The woman frowned at him and put a hand on the door, watching him with empty eyes. He nodded at her, or maybe to himself, then looked around the store. It was empty, which was probably good, and the chill in the air was nice after standing outside under the rapidly expanding maroon-or maybe it was cream- cloud.

He needed a second to think and it hadn’t been happening outside. Also apparently people were joining the fucking cloud and that was just…

He’d seen a movie like this once. …well, okay, he’d had Star Trek: The Next Generation on dvd and really enjoyed the borg storylines and he had learned that when people became one with something nothing good could follow.

“Update from Keith Shadis– you know the former sheriff who is now a farmer-slash-school teacher-paranoid malcontent– The Glow cloud is now so large that it’s covering all of Wall Rose, smothering us with it oddly pleasant song.” He sighed at the sound of the radio host’s-he needed to learn that guy’s name- voice coming somewhere in the store. It made him feel a little at ease; at least someone in town still seemed normal enough.

“The Sheriff’s Secret Police have apparently taken to shouting questions at the Glow Cloud, trying to ascertain what exactly it wants. So far, the Glow Cloud has not answered. You have to understand that the Glow Cloud does not need to converse with us. It does not feel as we tiny humans feel. It has no need for thoughts or feelings or petty explanations. The Glow Cloud simply is.”

Jean’s heart sank. Fuck his life.

“All hail the mighty Glow Cloud! All hail! And now, slaves of the Cloud, the weather.”

 _'Walking on Sunshine'_ began to play.


End file.
